Olympian Nights eBook

I

I Reach Mount Olympus

While travelling through the classic realms of Greece
some years ago, sincerely desirous of discovering
the lurking-place of a certain war which the newspapers
of my own country were describing with some vividness,
I chanced upon the base of the far-famed Mount Olympus.
Night was coming on apace and I was tired, having been
led during the day upon a wild-goose chase by my guide,
who had assured me that he had definitely located
the scene of hostilities between the Greeks and the
Turks. He had promised that for a consideration
I should witness a conflict between the contending
armies which in its sanguinary aspects should surpass
anything the world had yet known. Whether or
not it so happened that the armies had been booked
for a public exhibition elsewhere, unknown to the
talented bandit who was acting as my courier, I am
not aware, but, as the event transpired, the search
was futile, and another day was wasted. Most annoying,
too, was the fact that I dared not manifest the impatience
which I naturally felt. I am not remarkable as
a specimen of the strong man; quite the reverse indeed,
for, while I am by no means a weakling, I am no adept
in the fistic art. Hence, when my guide, Hippopopolis
by name, as the sun sank behind the western hills,
informed me that I was again to be disappointed, the
fact that he stands six feet two in his stockings,
when he wears them, and has a pleasing way of bending
crowbars as a pastime, led me to conceal the irritation
which I felt.

“It’s all right, Hippopopolis,”
I said, swallowing my wrath. “It’s
all right. We’ve had a good bit of exercise,
anyhow, and that, after all, is the chief desideratum
to a man of a sedentary occupation. How many
miles have we walked?”

“Very—­very short,” said I,
rubbing my aching calves. “In my own country
I make a practice of walking at least a hundred every
day. It’s quite a pleasing stroll from
my home in New York over to Philadelphia and back.
I hope I shall be able to show it you some day.”

“It will be altogether charming, Excellency,”
said he. “Shall we—­ah—­walk
back to Athens now, or would you prefer to rest here
for the night?”

“I—­I guess I’ll stay here,
Hippopopolis,” I replied. “This seems
to be a very comfortable sort of a mountain in front
of us, and the air is soft. Suppose we rest in
the soothing shade for the night? It would be
quite an adventure.”

“As your Excellency wishes,” he replied,
tossing a bowlder into the air and catching it with
ease as it came down. “It is not often done,
but it is for you to say.”

“What mountain is it, Hippopopolis?” I
asked, turning and gazing at the eminence before us.